A summer of travels 2011, part I of V: Lviv's culinary scene
I’ve got a lot of stories to tell from a month of summer travels, but let’s begin by going back into the past, to just over a year before my 2011 travels commenced. We’ll call this the
PROLOGUE: Lviv: 16-21 June 2010
Regular and semi-regular readers will have different recollections of my tales from the summer of 2010: Romania-Moldova-Transdniestria-Ukraine-Poland. Much of that has been covered in varying degrees of depth on the Layman’s Guide (I especially love my rambling, blabbering Tiraspol post). Interspersed amongst my ditties were missives about the World Cup, which I fear alienated a few too many readers. After my wretchedly poor World Cup preview, which provoked torrents of abuse and vitriol, I felt that I had to keep up some momentum and thus produced a few perfunctory pieces of inchoate bile where I ruminated on various matches and theorized in way too great depth. Blah blah blah indeed.
I have also, from time to time, referred to the splendid ‘new’ collection of cafés and restaurants that have sprouted up in Lviv since the time that I last lived there, September 2005 to June 2006. When I arrived in Lviv the previous June, I was dumbfounded by how the city’s culinary options had transformed. Whilst living there, only a few, excessively-smoky cafés tickled my fancy and were regular haunts of mine.
Fast forward some four years later – not long by any stretch of the imagination – and the place was virtually unrecognizable on this front. And it was all thanks to a friend and former colleague that I was introduced to some of these new places.
Little did I know that just a couple of months later I would find myself back in Ukraine, but this time in Kyiv. I put off recapping all of these restaurants, safe in the knowledge that I would be making countless trips back to Lviv. I reckoned that the more I visited, the more that would be revealed to me. Since that June, I’ve been back to Lviv four times, each time taking in as many of these places as I can. While the note-taking has dropped off from the frenetic level of my first trip back, the inspiration has slowly built-up to the point where now seems the appropriate time to finally unleash my restaurant-reviewing creative demons. For while I had never previously fancied myself as a restaurant reviewer – that’s the G-Man’s territory – Lviv’s burgeoning epicurean scene awoke in me a [moribund?] desire to try my hand at something new.
I took copious notes. I hope the passage of time will have naturally forced me to edit them down to something manageable and digestible. Pun intended? Christ, yes. They always are with me. (Disclaimer: they do come out naturally, without a thought, but then I retroactively make them ‘intended’; I hate when people write ‘no pun intended’. Bullshit – at least ¾ of those so-called unintended puns are really so.)
Talk about décor
For western-Ukraine trotting Ukrainians, these places are now a bit old hat.
I met S-------, a former colleague, whose husband D--- is one of three owners of this group of new Lviv eateries. She gave me a detailed run-down of all the establishments, then took me on a whirlwind tour of some of them. From that point on, despite the glorious June sunshine, I spent most of my remaining time stumbling from café to café, attempting to take notes in the midst of a drunken stupor.
Place #1: Kryjivka (opened September 2007, D---‘s 2nd place)
Kyivites either love or hate this place. It seems like the appropriate place to start.
Kryijivka is a hearty, Ukrainian-partisan themed underground bunker, hence the reason why some of Ukraine’s less passionately patriotic citizens take exception to it (I’m grossly simplifying the issue, but now is neither the time nor the place to delve any further; but the basic info is that Stepan Bandera was a leading figure in the Organisation of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN), and then later its military wing, the Ukrainian Insurgent Army, created in 1942, and this place is an homage to him and his efforts).
Upon entering, you’re greeted by a resistance fighter who demands the requisite password – ‘Slava Ukraina’ – whereupon he responds with something similarish and then offers you a complimentary and seemingly obligatory shot of medovukha (honey vodka). Each of D---‘s restaurants has their own special house flavoured vodka. These things are tasty and deceptively strong. They proved the source of my downfall.
Behind the hidden bookcase and down inside the cavernous, tunnel-like cellar with its bare brick exposed walls and low ceilings are waiters dressed as resistance fighters; tattered newspaper-designed menus in the form of brown paper American grocery bags; portraits and odes to partisan-hero Bandera hanging from the walls; hourly air-raid sirens forcing half the customers to duck under their tables; rickety uneven heavy oak picnic-style tables; helmets, rifles, machine guns, grenades and camouflage netting hanging from the wall; and a Kalashnikov firing range with targets of Lenin and Stalin.
Watch your head
My first visit here was early in the afternoon. Nursing a hangover, I went for a horseradish vodka. After that, I had another medovukha and then a caraway-flavoured option. Bye bye hangover, hello tipsiness. It was probably about 2pm at this point.
The menu was an absolute delight, partially due to the bizarre translations (I must be nice here since S------ translated it). I could probably share just about every option, but will whittle this down to a few select treats:
- leaf-lard ‘the devastation serenade’
- ‘bloody gut’ – buckwheat and blood sausage
- ‘nature’s youth and beauty recipe’ – leaf-lard milled with garlic
- hero’s first communion borshch
- drunk carp-looking morsals
- ‘don’t poke your nose’ – pig snouts
- ‘don’t clap your ears’ – kosher crispy ears
- a ‘virgin partisan woman’ – fruit and ice cream
As I tend to do when faced with an overwhelming menu, I ordered more than I could handle, but thoroughly enjoyed my meal, which included ‘sweet pepper of the partisan’ and ‘gifts of the cucumber barrel’. It all came to less than $10 – this would be a recurring theme at every location. Unbelievably cheap prices, especially compared to Kyiv.
Hearty partisan fare to accompany the folklore
Place #2: Dim Legend (House of Legend: D---‘s 11th, and at the time, most recent place)
Most of these places didn’t (don’t?) engage in much advertising, instead relying on word-of-mouth. In fact, though S------ encouraged me to go ahead and write about them, she did warn me that photos weren’t always particularly welcome. They wanted to maintain a certain degree of secrecy. At Dim Legend, because it had just opened, taking photos was strictly taboo.
But did I listen? Of course not! And so barely had I whipped out my camera when I was sternly told off like a bad little school boy for trying to take photos.
This place has about 6 differently-themed rooms, which is part of its selling point: I forget all of the themes (one is a lion’s room, with Lviv meaning ‘lion’) because every time I go I end up in the library, which is not only ideal for a book geek like me, but is also one of the brighter, airier options. Outside, there’s a dragon protruding from the building face. Every day, at a set time the dragon unexpectedly spits fire. Tourists and locals alike wait all day on the street, cameras at the ready, for a chance to snap the dragon. The time most likely changes every so often.
Dormant dragon
An ongoing theme that would make itself more manifestly clear at all of these places first reared its head at Dim Legend: with its many floors and narrow, winding, precarious staircases, these places absolutely do not adhere to any known fire and handicap-accessible regulations. But then, I’m not sure how important all of this is in Ukraine.
Regular friends and readers will know what an avid reader I am. But here, and in the other places I would end up ‘reviewing’, any attempts to read were quashed: taking in the décor and environs, not to mention taking down notes, proved to be more than I could handle.
The tables and chairs are all mismatched. I was sitting at a small wooden table, with a glass-encased display in the middle featuring a mini-beach scene replete with sand, shells and postcards, along with twigs, nuts, bolts, washers, screws and nails. They aren’t exactly going for consistency here.
Not your typical library
The menu was vague and there was no English. This I like: taking chances, seeing what I’ll end up with is all part of the fun. It backfires from time to time (on my most recent trip to Lviv I ended up with kidneys, livers and intestines when I thought I was getting merely ‘sausage’), but I’ll continue to roll the dice. This time, however, I opted for safety and went with the bog-standard Ukrainian herring and black bread. This kind of dish almost always comes with dill, which I love, but this time had a nice fusiony touch of fresh basil. And though it was still laden with way too much mayonnaise, it was drizzled in a bit of olive oil. The bread was gorgeous: malty brown, soft, slightly spongy, tasted fried but certainly wasn’t, it absolutely melted in my mouth.
Throughout my stay, the waitress never let me out of her eyesight, thanks to my photo transgressions. When I asked for the bill, it took forever to arrive, despite the place not being overly crowded. I thought this was her getting back at me. But when the bill did come, I realised why it had taken so damn long. Stapled to the bill was an intricately drawn flower with a smiley face in the middle. It looked the kind of thing a skilled artist could whip out in a few seconds. It would have taken me an hour. How they cope with this sort of gimmick when the place is heaving is beyond me, but it was a nice touch.
Before leaving I needed to use the toilet. I waited forever, only to be met by a giggling couple emerging all bleary-eyed. My first instinct was the obvious one, but only once I had entered and took a seat did I realise what might have kept them in there so long. And here is another feature of all of these restaurants: truly original, utterly unique toilets. Here, upon closing the door and making yourself comfortable, a video rooted to the door automatically comes on and two cantankerous old characters start barking at you (there are seven different versions, allegedly, which means lengthy queues are probably a regular feature). What they were saying I had no idea, but it was highly amusing. Also, there’s a clothes line running from wall to wall with oversized lady’s bras and knickers and various other undergarments.
The highlight of this place is arguably the view from the rooftop. After S------ had given me a brief tour of some of these places, we enjoyed a coffee at one of the few tables outside. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.
Place #3: The Most Expensive Galician Restaurant (D----‘s 8th place)
(not to be confused with the Spanish Galicia, this Galicia refers to western Ukraine/eastern Poland)
A Masonic Lodge-themed location, with portraits of American presidents adorning the walls and the muted History Channel showing on endless loops on the TVs scattered round the rooms. This is the easily the most austere location, which means no mismatched chairs and lopsided tables – here it’s darker, more serene, the furniture glossier and more polished, proper high-backed chairs, candles and piano player. The toilet is like a throne, perched upon marble floors with the candles glimmering off the walls, floor and ceiling.
The food, which is delectable (in March of this year, along with the G-Man and Svetlana, I had a delicious, mouth-watering goose; I felt slightly guilty afterwards, but then I figured that I was doing animal humanity a favour by sparing this poor soul any more force-feeding to produce foie gras), comes in ornate silver coverings which illuminate the food underneath.
The restaurant’s name relates to the prices on the menu: everything is 10-times the actual amount (thus, a typical dish of chicken and potatoes might cost 600 hryvnas, which at 8 hryvnas to $1 amounts to around $750). The trick is to mention this when asking for the bill, otherwise you might get stuck paying way too much. Because S------- had told me about this, I knew what the game was. But I have to wonder how the uninitiated feel – if I took a look at those prices, I’d be out of there in a heartbeat.
This place’s real charm comes at the entrance. You have to knock on a seemingly innocuous apartment door. You are met by an old man in a dressing gown. Your first thought is to apologise profusely for interrupting this poor old man’s dinner; you figure you’ve made a mistake and have the wrong place. But before you can utter an apology he grabs you, whisks you inside his 1940s-themed kitchen, and tells you that you are indeed in the right place, and are then treated to an ever-so-brief lecture on what this restaurant is all about.
Though he didn't speak English, we got the general idea
Place #4: At Golden Rose (D---‘s 5th place)
Despite being a Jewish-themed restaurant, the menu only came in Ukrainian and English and not in Hebrew. The Ukrainian version featured overly-wrought, overly-complicated descriptions of the dishes, while the English version was straightforward and to the point. It was nice to enjoy some decent hummus, tashmuk and farshmak. Such dishes can be a challenge to find in Ukraine, though Odesa has a wonderful Jewish restaurant.
What was great about this place – not to sound anti-Semitic or anything – was that there are no prices on the menu: you are expected to negotiate with the waiter when asking for the bill. I loved this concept, though I can imagine it might befuddle a fair few tourists. Apparently they have a menu with prices for the less adventurous.
I was here with Marichka and Natalia, two of my closest friends from my time living in Lviv. They were taking me on a mini-tour of these establishments. Unbeknownst to my dear friends, S------- had already introduced me to most of them, but that took nothing away from the experience.
We sat outside in a glorious, well-decorated terrace with candle menorahs and tasteful tablecloths on all of the tables. Our waitress was new and wearing a training shirt featuring a big exclamation mark. Most of the waitstaff at all of these restaurants were trainees. As part of D---‘s plan to introduce good customer service to Ukraine, all of the waiters introduced themselves at the beginning (thankfully saying nothing like ‘Hi, my name’s Amanda and I’ll be TAKING CARE OF YOU this evening), though it did sometimes come out a bit stilted, awkward and unnatural.
When it came time to getting the bill, I was eagerly looking forward to bargaining. The best kind of language practice comes from negotiating at markets, I find, and this was a good opportunity to practice my numbers. Calmly, hands behind back, our waitress asked how much we wanted to pay. For a trainee, she had the routine down pat, starting off at a whopping 97 hryvnas. I countered with 55. Poor Marichka, who didn’t quite grasp the concept of bargaining (‘but I bargain all the time at the market!’ she cried), tried to join in, which only complicated the process:
Waitress: 97!
Pedzo: 55!
Waitress: 90!
Pedzo: 58!
Waitress 85!
Pedzo: 60!
Waitress: 80! (Pedzo making great progress here)
Marichka: 85!
Pedzo: what are you doing going higher?!
Waitress: okay, 85!
Pedzo: no, no, no 60!
Waitress: okay, 75!
Marichka: 80!
Pedzo: no! stop it, you’re meant to bargain DOWN, not UP!
Waitress, highly amused: 80 then!
Pedzo: no, no, no! ignore her, listen to me! 60!
Waitress: 72!
This went on a bit longer. We settled on 64. I’m sure dear Marichka meant well.
Place #5: Gasova Lampa (Oil Lamp Museum and Restaurant, D----‘s 6th place)
It’s all going to be anti-climactic after this: Gasova Lampa immediately became and remains my favourite of all of these ‘new’ places. Though the food pales in comparison to the other options, the atmosphere is second to none. Perhaps coincidentally – there’s no denying that charismatic, atmospheric places lend themselves to this sort of thing – it has been the scene of frequent interesting run-ins and encounters with interesting people. This place is just so much fun, more than any place else on my list.
Continuing with our theme of fire safety violations, it’s a tricky, perilous climb up the winding iron staircase. You could easily find yourself halfway up one section, only to come face to face with someone on their descent. How steely you are in your face off determines who backs down.
You go up and up and up…every floor is intriguing. The less curious might pounce on the first table they see. Others continue onwards and upwards to see what lies in store in the upper reaches. At the very top, in a smoky (some things don’t change) glass-encased greenhouse type of environment, with a multitude of gas lamps hanging on strings over your heads, are yet more heavily-wooden tables (how else to describe them?) crammed in. The views are lovely, and the flight filtering in can be blinding and the heat sweltering, even if in the dead of winter (I’ve now been there in every season). Every now and then flumes of smoke spew their fumes, creating a hypnotically-trancing effect. In total, there are nearly 300 lamps hanging from the ceiling or stashed away in glass cabinets.
Apparently, the oil lamp was invented in Ukraine, and in 1853 the first oil lamp was designed in Lviv
Here I imbibed in way too many coffee and pomegranate (Navtivka) and apple and cinnamon vodkas to remember. The stuff is so damn delicious, it goes down like juice.
The waitstaff are resplendent in their boiler suit costumes.
The rest of the story: splendid encounters with locals, drinks bought, toasts offered, numbers exchanged, bizarre and barely decipherable notes scribbled in my notebook, hangovers from hell…fond memories of this place, even if I can hardly recall many of them.
An oh-so brief round-up of the others on the list:
- the Stare Misto (‘old town’, named after a Lviv beer) tram: D---‘s 4th place. Tiny on the inside, in the summer there’s a non-descript outside set of tables. I think this one has been shut down – it’s been deserted on my past 2 visits.
- the Opera House Art restaurant (located below Lviv’s Opera House, D---‘s 7th place). This is for all of the progressive clubbers out there. I didn’t visit it. I tried to pop my head in late one night but there was a live band playing and I opted not to go in.
- the ‘at Diana’ open-air café (D---‘s 1st place, opened summer 2007). Located in the heart of Lviv’s old town, this café is centred around a statue of Diana. I first visited this one in July 2011, at the start of my trip. I had one beer. The waitress was rude and insolent. Before I could ask for a 2nd (the location is great), she gave me the bill. Bitch.
- Variat, a sandwich café near Lviv Polytechnic University (D---‘s 9th place, I think Variat means ‘crazy’ in western Ukraine): never visited. Don’t even know where the university is.
- the Lviv handmade chocolate café (D---‘s 10th place; there are now two branches in Kyiv). Delicious hot chocolate as well as lots of other chocolate, all made on the premises. If I were more of a chocolate person, I might say more. All the same, I found it delicious.
- the Leopold Van Sacher-Masoch café (D---‘s 3rd place). Named after the man who of course introduced us to one-half of Sado-Masochism, who was born in Lviv (at the time called Lemberg, as it was part of the Hapsburg empire) and wrote Venus in Furs, the ultimate submission and fetish novella. Without revealing too much about my sordid tastes, this should be the kind of place I love. Outside is a statue of Leopold, which has to now be the most photographed object in Lviv, if not all of Ukraine – there’s always a queue of people waiting to take photographs. Putting your hand into Leopold’s ‘pocket’ will reveal a nice little well-sculpted surprise. Ho-hum.
I could say more about this place. I’ve been a couple of times, only for drinks. It’s probably the most talked-about, visited places in all of Lviv. Kyivites on their way for a weekend in Lviv all get excited about visiting it. One of their party tricks is whipping customers if you do anything wrong. There are whips and chains everywhere. It’s dark, gloomy, candle-lit and atmospheric. The toilets feature something interesting or other, I can’t really remember. And though I had a charmingly intimate visit with the G-Man and Svetlana in March, the place is highly overrated. By all means go, if you’re in Lviv. But otherwise…ho-hum.
Mr Van Sacher-Masoch & Friends
Epilogue to the Prologue (and the Prologue to the rest of the trip)
July 2011
At the start of last summer’s trip, I took in my favourites on the list, but my friend Olena treated me to dinner at the newest place on D---‘s list (#12), a place she called ‘Olesya’ but which I later found out was called The First Grill Restaurant of Meat and Justice. No wonder she called it Olesya.
The place was designed after an old Lviv executioner’s residence. Those who know me best know how much I love torture devices and anything vaguely-torture themed (I make it a point to visit every town’s torture museum, no matter how bad they are reputed to be; I am inevitably disappointed whenever I go yet I persist). Olesya had a multitude of torture instruments hanging from the walls and ceilings and the medieval brick interior with roaring fire and open grill in the middle of the place lent in an air of intensity and exposure. And the sausages there were absolutely gorgeous, some of the most delectable pork I had tasted in a long time, though bear in mind that I don’t eat much meat these days – primarily it’s when I travel. For research purposes, you see.
Notice how I used the past tense to describe Olesya. Sadly, when I tried to visit on my most recent trip to Lviv, in October of this year, the place was gone and completely gutted out. Without going into too many details, the city authorities found some ‘irregularities’ with the paperwork, or so it was said, and so it was shut down. It might have had something to do with the fact that it was built on the grounds of a 17th century Bernardine monastery, and a few obstreperous locals objected to it on historical grounds. Matters like this are pretty murky at the best of times in Ukraine, so it’s best not to ask too many questions.
So concludes this extended prologue. Mercifully, the next 4 installments will be light on restaurant descriptions.
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